u/The_tip69

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Me, Hunter Calloway, the guy who led the high school football team to state finals two years running, the dude with the cannon arm and the abs that make cheerleaders forget their names, moving in with a gay dude? Yeah. My gay best friend Percy Vale. Sounds like the setup for some viral TikTok drama Sounds like a setup for some bad porno or a campus prank gone wrong, right?. But fuck it, we've been bros since we were stealing beers from his dad's garage. What's the worst that could happen? A little awkwardness? Nah, it'll be fine. I'm straight as an arrow, and he's... well, Percy. Always the dramatic one, always quoting lines from movies nobody else had seen, always the first to spot when I had a crush on a girl. And I was always the one dragging him to pickup games so he wouldn’t spend every weekend rehearsing monologues in his bedroom mirror.

So when we both got into the same college and the housing office paired us as roommates in the freshman dorms, I didn’t even blink. Percy texted me a string of rainbow emojis and a “prepare your straight-boy soul, Hunter,” and I fired back with a middle-finger GIF. Business as usual. I’m straight as a goalpost. He’s Percy. What could possibly go sideways?

Move-in day hits like a linebacker. I roll up in my dad’s old F-150, bed loaded with football gear, protein shaker bottles, a mini fridge I definitely didn’t need, and three duffel bags stuffed with clothes that mostly smell like Axe body spray and grass stains. Percy’s already there, of course. He beat me by an hour because theater kids apparently wake up at dawn to claim the best side of the room. I find him standing in the middle of our tiny double, arms wide like he’s welcoming me to his kingdom. He’s wearing these stupid tight black jeans that hug his legs and a cropped band tee that shows a sliver of stomach. His dark hair is messy in that intentional way, and he’s got those wire-frame glasses that make him look like he’s about to direct an indie film.

“Hunter Calloway,” he announces in this exaggerated announcer voice, “welcome to the palace of fabulousness and questionable life choices.”

I drop my first bag with a thud. “Dude. You already claimed the left bed?”

“Obviously. Closer to the window for dramatic lighting during my monologues.”

I snort. “You’re gonna monologue in here? In front of me? While I’m trying to sleep off a hangover?”

“Exactly. You’ll be my captive audience. It’s called method acting.”

I shake my head and start unpacking. The room is classic freshman hell: two twin beds shoved against opposite walls, matching desks that look like they were built in the eighties, a shared closet that’s already half-full of Percy’s colorful hoodies and scarves, and a tiny bathroom that smells faintly of bleach and old pizza. I toss my football helmet on the desk like it’s a trophy and Percy immediately picks it up, puts it on, and strikes a pose.

“How do I look? Ready to sack some quarterbacks?”

“You look like a theater kid trying to cosplay a jock. Take it off before you dent it.”

He laughs and sets it down carefully. “Relax, Mr. Ego. I’m not gonna ruin your precious helmet. I respect the sacred jock artifacts.”

We fall into our usual rhythm fast. I haul in the rest of my shit while Percy organizes his side like it’s a stage set. He’s got posters of old Broadway shows taped up already, a string of fairy lights draped over his headboard, and a little plant he swears is going to survive college. I’ve got my playbook, a stack of protein bars, and a poster of Tom Brady that Percy immediately rolls his eyes at.

“Really, Hunter? Tom Brady? In 2026? You’re living in the past.”

“Tom Brady is timeless, bro. Show some respect.”

“Timeless like your taste in women, apparently. Still chasing cheerleader types?”

I grin and flex one arm just to mess with him. “Jealous?”

“Of your predictable type? Hard pass. I like a little variety.”

We banter like that the whole afternoon. It’s easy. It’s us. Every time I catch him staring a second too long while I’m bent over unpacking, I chalk it up to him being Percy. Dramatic. Observant. Gay. No big deal. And every time I notice how his jeans ride low when he stretches, or how his shirt rides up and shows that smooth strip of skin above his waistband, I tell myself it’s nothing. Just noticing. Bros notice shit about each other. Right?

By evening we’re both sweaty from hauling boxes and the dorm AC is fighting a losing battle. Percy strips off his shirt without a second thought, tosses it on his bed, and starts fanning himself with a play script.

“Jesus, it’s a sauna in here,” he says. “You gonna stand there gawking or help me find the fan?”

I blink. His chest is lean, defined in that wiry theater-kid way. Not bulky like mine, but cut. Flat stomach, faint happy trail disappearing into those low jeans. My mouth goes dry for half a second before I snap out of it.

“Dude. Put a shirt on. You’re gonna blind me with all that pale skin.”

He smirks and flexes dramatically. “This is art, Hunter. Appreciate it.”

I laugh it off and dig through my bag, but my brain glitches. Why the fuck did I just stare? It’s Percy. My best friend. The same guy who cried when we lost the championship game senior year and I hugged him in the locker room like it was nothing. The same guy who used to sleep over and steal all the blankets. This is normal. Right?

We finally get the fan going, order pizza, and crash on our beds with the door open so the hallway noise drifts in. Percy’s sprawled out in just his jeans now, one leg dangling off the mattress, scrolling through his phone. I’m in gym shorts and no shirt because why bother. It’s just Percy.

The pizza arrives and we devour it like animals, grease on our fingers, laughing about dumb high-school memories.

“Remember when you tried to ask out Sarah Jenkins and puked on her shoes?” Percy says through a mouthful.

“Fuck you. That was food poisoning.”

“Sure it was. You were so nervous your stomach rebelled.”

I chuck a crust at him. It bounces off his chest. He picks it up and takes another bite like nothing happened.

“You’re disgusting,” I say.

“That’s why we are friends.”

We keep going like that until the pizza’s gone and the room smells like pepperoni. Percy stands up, stretches again, arms over his head. His jeans slip another inch. I see the waistband of black boxer briefs. My dick twitches. Just a little. Barely noticeable. I shift on the bed and pretend to check my phone.

Percy notices. Of course he does.

“You good, Hunter?”

“Yeah. Just tired from hauling your dramatic ass’s furniture.”

He grins. “You hauled one lamp. I did the heavy lifting.”

“Bullshit.”

He walks over to the closet, back to me, and starts shimmying out of his jeans. Right there. No warning. Jeans drop to his ankles and he kicks them off. Now he’s in nothing but those black briefs. They hug his ass perfectly. Round, firm. Fat and nice. Fuck. Why am I cataloging this?

He turns around, totally casual, scratching his stomach. “You mind if I shower first? I feel gross.”

I swallow. “Go for it. I’ll... unpack more.”

He grabs a towel and a change of clothes, then pauses at the bathroom door. “You sure you’re okay? You’re staring like I grew a second head.”

I force a laugh. “Nah. Just wondering how someone so skinny has a fat ass like that. Must be all the jazz hands.”

He cackles. “Jealousy is a disease, Calloway. Get well soon.”

The bathroom door clicks shut. Water starts running.

I sit there on my bed, heart thumping harder than it should. My dick is half-hard now. Not raging, just... interested. I stare at the ceiling and try to logic it out. It’s not like my dick knows that I am staring at a dude’s ass.

It’s just a body. Percy’s body. My best friend’s body. I’ve seen him shirtless a million times. Why does it feel different now?

Because we’re living together. Alone. No parents. No teammates walking in. Just us.

I run a hand over my face. This is stupid. I’m straight. I like pussy. I like cheer skirts and lipstick and girls who giggle when I flex and dramatically take my shirt off. I don’t like... whatever the fuck this twitch in my shorts is about.

The shower shuts off. Percy comes out a minute later in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. Water droplets on his shoulders. Hair damp and curling at the ends. He smells like that citrus body wash he always uses.

“Your turn, jock boy,” he says, flopping onto his bed. The towel parts just enough that I catch a glimpse of his smooth and toned thighs.

I stand up fast. Too fast. My shorts tent a little. I angle away so he doesn’t see his straight friend’s boner.

“Be out in ten,” I mutter, grabbing my own towel and bolting for the bathroom.

Under the shower, I try to wash the weirdness away. Soap. Shampoo. Deep breaths. But my dick stays half-hard, traitor that it is. I grip it once, give it a slow stroke, thinking about Sarah Jenkins or that blonde from orientation who was clearly giving me the eyes. But the image flickers and it’s Percy’s smirk instead. His ass in those briefs. The way the towel clung to his wet body.

I groan and punch the tile.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

It’s just curiosity. Living with a gay dude for the first time. Seeing him naked-adjacent. It’s normal to notice. Doesn’t mean anything.

I finish showering, wrap the towel tight, and step out.

Percy’s under his covers now, reading some script on his phone, fairy lights glowing soft around him. He looks up.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Much.”

I drop the towel and pull on boxers quick. He doesn’t stare. Doesn’t make a joke. Just smiles that small, knowing smile.

“Night, Hunter.”

“Night, Perce.”

I climb into bed. Lights out. The room goes quiet except for the hum of the fan and the distant thump of bass from some party down the hall.

I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, dick still traitorously interested.

Little did I know, move-in day was just the beginning. The real chaos hadn’t even started yet.

^(Everyone is 18+ and the situations described are fully consensual.)

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Me, Hunter Calloway, the guy who led the high school football team to state finals two years running, the dude with the cannon arm and the abs that make cheerleaders forget their names, moving in with a gay dude? Yeah. My gay best friend Percy Vale. Sounds like the setup for some viral TikTok drama Sounds like a setup for some bad porno or a campus prank gone wrong, right?. But fuck it, we've been bros since we were stealing beers from his dad's garage. What's the worst that could happen? A little awkwardness? Nah, it'll be fine. I'm straight as an arrow, and he's... well, Percy. Always the dramatic one, always quoting lines from movies nobody else had seen, always the first to spot when I had a crush on a girl. And I was always the one dragging him to pickup games so he wouldn’t spend every weekend rehearsing monologues in his bedroom mirror.

So when we both got into the same college and the housing office paired us as roommates in the freshman dorms, I didn’t even blink. Percy texted me a string of rainbow emojis and a “prepare your straight-boy soul, Hunter,” and I fired back with a middle-finger GIF. Business as usual. I’m straight as a goalpost. He’s Percy. What could possibly go sideways?

Move-in day hits like a linebacker. I roll up in my dad’s old F-150, bed loaded with football gear, protein shaker bottles, a mini fridge I definitely didn’t need, and three duffel bags stuffed with clothes that mostly smell like Axe body spray and grass stains. Percy’s already there, of course. He beat me by an hour because theater kids apparently wake up at dawn to claim the best side of the room. I find him standing in the middle of our tiny double, arms wide like he’s welcoming me to his kingdom. He’s wearing these stupid tight black jeans that hug his legs and a cropped band tee that shows a sliver of stomach. His dark hair is messy in that intentional way, and he’s got those wire-frame glasses that make him look like he’s about to direct an indie film.

“Hunter Calloway,” he announces in this exaggerated announcer voice, “welcome to the palace of fabulousness and questionable life choices.”

I drop my first bag with a thud. “Dude. You already claimed the left bed?”

“Obviously. Closer to the window for dramatic lighting during my monologues.”

I snort. “You’re gonna monologue in here? In front of me? While I’m trying to sleep off a hangover?”

“Exactly. You’ll be my captive audience. It’s called method acting.”

I shake my head and start unpacking. The room is classic freshman hell: two twin beds shoved against opposite walls, matching desks that look like they were built in the eighties, a shared closet that’s already half-full of Percy’s colorful hoodies and scarves, and a tiny bathroom that smells faintly of bleach and old pizza. I toss my football helmet on the desk like it’s a trophy and Percy immediately picks it up, puts it on, and strikes a pose.

“How do I look? Ready to sack some quarterbacks?”

“You look like a theater kid trying to cosplay a jock. Take it off before you dent it.”

He laughs and sets it down carefully. “Relax, Mr. Ego. I’m not gonna ruin your precious helmet. I respect the sacred jock artifacts.”

We fall into our usual rhythm fast. I haul in the rest of my shit while Percy organizes his side like it’s a stage set. He’s got posters of old Broadway shows taped up already, a string of fairy lights draped over his headboard, and a little plant he swears is going to survive college. I’ve got my playbook, a stack of protein bars, and a poster of Tom Brady that Percy immediately rolls his eyes at.

“Really, Hunter? Tom Brady? In 2026? You’re living in the past.”

“Tom Brady is timeless, bro. Show some respect.”

“Timeless like your taste in women, apparently. Still chasing cheerleader types?”

I grin and flex one arm just to mess with him. “Jealous?”

“Of your predictable type? Hard pass. I like a little variety.”

We banter like that the whole afternoon. It’s easy. It’s us. Every time I catch him staring a second too long while I’m bent over unpacking, I chalk it up to him being Percy. Dramatic. Observant. Gay. No big deal. And every time I notice how his jeans ride low when he stretches, or how his shirt rides up and shows that smooth strip of skin above his waistband, I tell myself it’s nothing. Just noticing. Bros notice shit about each other. Right?

By evening we’re both sweaty from hauling boxes and the dorm AC is fighting a losing battle. Percy strips off his shirt without a second thought, tosses it on his bed, and starts fanning himself with a play script.

“Jesus, it’s a sauna in here,” he says. “You gonna stand there gawking or help me find the fan?”

I blink. His chest is lean, defined in that wiry theater-kid way. Not bulky like mine, but cut. Flat stomach, faint happy trail disappearing into those low jeans. My mouth goes dry for half a second before I snap out of it.

“Dude. Put a shirt on. You’re gonna blind me with all that pale skin.”

He smirks and flexes dramatically. “This is art, Hunter. Appreciate it.”

I laugh it off and dig through my bag, but my brain glitches. Why the fuck did I just stare? It’s Percy. My best friend. The same guy who cried when we lost the championship game senior year and I hugged him in the locker room like it was nothing. The same guy who used to sleep over and steal all the blankets. This is normal. Right?

We finally get the fan going, order pizza, and crash on our beds with the door open so the hallway noise drifts in. Percy’s sprawled out in just his jeans now, one leg dangling off the mattress, scrolling through his phone. I’m in gym shorts and no shirt because why bother. It’s just Percy.

The pizza arrives and we devour it like animals, grease on our fingers, laughing about dumb high-school memories.

“Remember when you tried to ask out Sarah Jenkins and puked on her shoes?” Percy says through a mouthful.

“Fuck you. That was food poisoning.”

“Sure it was. You were so nervous your stomach rebelled.”

I chuck a crust at him. It bounces off his chest. He picks it up and takes another bite like nothing happened.

“You’re disgusting,” I say.

“That’s why we are friends.”

We keep going like that until the pizza’s gone and the room smells like pepperoni. Percy stands up, stretches again, arms over his head. His jeans slip another inch. I see the waistband of black boxer briefs. My dick twitches. Just a little. Barely noticeable. I shift on the bed and pretend to check my phone.

Percy notices. Of course he does.

“You good, Hunter?”

“Yeah. Just tired from hauling your dramatic ass’s furniture.”

He grins. “You hauled one lamp. I did the heavy lifting.”

“Bullshit.”

He walks over to the closet, back to me, and starts shimmying out of his jeans. Right there. No warning. Jeans drop to his ankles and he kicks them off. Now he’s in nothing but those black briefs. They hug his ass perfectly. Round, firm. Fat and nice. Fuck. Why am I cataloging this?

He turns around, totally casual, scratching his stomach. “You mind if I shower first? I feel gross.”

I swallow. “Go for it. I’ll... unpack more.”

He grabs a towel and a change of clothes, then pauses at the bathroom door. “You sure you’re okay? You’re staring like I grew a second head.”

I force a laugh. “Nah. Just wondering how someone so skinny has a fat ass like that. Must be all the jazz hands.”

He cackles. “Jealousy is a disease, Calloway. Get well soon.”

The bathroom door clicks shut. Water starts running.

I sit there on my bed, heart thumping harder than it should. My dick is half-hard now. Not raging, just... interested. I stare at the ceiling and try to logic it out. It’s not like my dick knows that I am staring at a dude’s ass.

It’s just a body. Percy’s body. My best friend’s body. I’ve seen him shirtless a million times. Why does it feel different now?

Because we’re living together. Alone. No parents. No teammates walking in. Just us.

I run a hand over my face. This is stupid. I’m straight. I like pussy. I like cheer skirts and lipstick and girls who giggle when I flex and dramatically take my shirt off. I don’t like... whatever the fuck this twitch in my shorts is about.

The shower shuts off. Percy comes out a minute later in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. Water droplets on his shoulders. Hair damp and curling at the ends. He smells like that citrus body wash he always uses.

“Your turn, jock boy,” he says, flopping onto his bed. The towel parts just enough that I catch a glimpse of his smooth and toned thighs.

I stand up fast. Too fast. My shorts tent a little. I angle away so he doesn’t see his straight friend’s boner.

“Be out in ten,” I mutter, grabbing my own towel and bolting for the bathroom.

Under the shower, I try to wash the weirdness away. Soap. Shampoo. Deep breaths. But my dick stays half-hard, traitor that it is. I grip it once, give it a slow stroke, thinking about Sarah Jenkins or that blonde from orientation who was clearly giving me the eyes. But the image flickers and it’s Percy’s smirk instead. His ass in those briefs. The way the towel clung to his wet body.

I groan and punch the tile.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

It’s just curiosity. Living with a gay dude for the first time. Seeing him naked-adjacent. It’s normal to notice. Doesn’t mean anything.

I finish showering, wrap the towel tight, and step out.

Percy’s under his covers now, reading some script on his phone, fairy lights glowing soft around him. He looks up.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Much.”

I drop the towel and pull on boxers quick. He doesn’t stare. Doesn’t make a joke. Just smiles that small, knowing smile.

“Night, Hunter.”

“Night, Perce.”

I climb into bed. Lights out. The room goes quiet except for the hum of the fan and the distant thump of bass from some party down the hall.

I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, dick still traitorously interested.

Little did I know, move-in day was just the beginning. The real chaos hadn’t even started yet.

^(Everyone is 18+ and the situations described are fully consensual.)

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Me, Hunter Calloway, the guy who led the high school football team to state finals two years running, the dude with the cannon arm and the abs that make cheerleaders forget their names, moving in with a gay dude? Yeah. My gay best friend Percy Vale. Sounds like the setup for some viral TikTok drama Sounds like a setup for some bad porno or a campus prank gone wrong, right?. But fuck it, we've been bros since we were stealing beers from his dad's garage. What's the worst that could happen? A little awkwardness? Nah, it'll be fine. I'm straight as an arrow, and he's... well, Percy. Always the dramatic one, always quoting lines from movies nobody else had seen, always the first to spot when I had a crush on a girl. And I was always the one dragging him to pickup games so he wouldn’t spend every weekend rehearsing monologues in his bedroom mirror.

So when we both got into the same college and the housing office paired us as roommates in the freshman dorms, I didn’t even blink. Percy texted me a string of rainbow emojis and a “prepare your straight-boy soul, Hunter,” and I fired back with a middle-finger GIF. Business as usual. I’m straight as a goalpost. He’s Percy. What could possibly go sideways?

Move-in day hits like a linebacker. I roll up in my dad’s old F-150, bed loaded with football gear, protein shaker bottles, a mini fridge I definitely didn’t need, and three duffel bags stuffed with clothes that mostly smell like Axe body spray and grass stains. Percy’s already there, of course. He beat me by an hour because theater kids apparently wake up at dawn to claim the best side of the room. I find him standing in the middle of our tiny double, arms wide like he’s welcoming me to his kingdom. He’s wearing these stupid tight black jeans that hug his legs and a cropped band tee that shows a sliver of stomach. His dark hair is messy in that intentional way, and he’s got those wire-frame glasses that make him look like he’s about to direct an indie film.

“Hunter Calloway,” he announces in this exaggerated announcer voice, “welcome to the palace of fabulousness and questionable life choices.”

I drop my first bag with a thud. “Dude. You already claimed the left bed?”

“Obviously. Closer to the window for dramatic lighting during my monologues.”

I snort. “You’re gonna monologue in here? In front of me? While I’m trying to sleep off a hangover?”

“Exactly. You’ll be my captive audience. It’s called method acting.”

I shake my head and start unpacking. The room is classic freshman hell: two twin beds shoved against opposite walls, matching desks that look like they were built in the eighties, a shared closet that’s already half-full of Percy’s colorful hoodies and scarves, and a tiny bathroom that smells faintly of bleach and old pizza. I toss my football helmet on the desk like it’s a trophy and Percy immediately picks it up, puts it on, and strikes a pose.

“How do I look? Ready to sack some quarterbacks?”

“You look like a theater kid trying to cosplay a jock. Take it off before you dent it.”

He laughs and sets it down carefully. “Relax, Mr. Ego. I’m not gonna ruin your precious helmet. I respect the sacred jock artifacts.”

We fall into our usual rhythm fast. I haul in the rest of my shit while Percy organizes his side like it’s a stage set. He’s got posters of old Broadway shows taped up already, a string of fairy lights draped over his headboard, and a little plant he swears is going to survive college. I’ve got my playbook, a stack of protein bars, and a poster of Tom Brady that Percy immediately rolls his eyes at.

“Really, Hunter? Tom Brady? In 2026? You’re living in the past.”

“Tom Brady is timeless, bro. Show some respect.”

“Timeless like your taste in women, apparently. Still chasing cheerleader types?”

I grin and flex one arm just to mess with him. “Jealous?”

“Of your predictable type? Hard pass. I like a little variety.”

We banter like that the whole afternoon. It’s easy. It’s us. Every time I catch him staring a second too long while I’m bent over unpacking, I chalk it up to him being Percy. Dramatic. Observant. Gay. No big deal. And every time I notice how his jeans ride low when he stretches, or how his shirt rides up and shows that smooth strip of skin above his waistband, I tell myself it’s nothing. Just noticing. Bros notice shit about each other. Right?

By evening we’re both sweaty from hauling boxes and the dorm AC is fighting a losing battle. Percy strips off his shirt without a second thought, tosses it on his bed, and starts fanning himself with a play script.

“Jesus, it’s a sauna in here,” he says. “You gonna stand there gawking or help me find the fan?”

I blink. His chest is lean, defined in that wiry theater-kid way. Not bulky like mine, but cut. Flat stomach, faint happy trail disappearing into those low jeans. My mouth goes dry for half a second before I snap out of it.

“Dude. Put a shirt on. You’re gonna blind me with all that pale skin.”

He smirks and flexes dramatically. “This is art, Hunter. Appreciate it.”

I laugh it off and dig through my bag, but my brain glitches. Why the fuck did I just stare? It’s Percy. My best friend. The same guy who cried when we lost the championship game senior year and I hugged him in the locker room like it was nothing. The same guy who used to sleep over and steal all the blankets. This is normal. Right?

We finally get the fan going, order pizza, and crash on our beds with the door open so the hallway noise drifts in. Percy’s sprawled out in just his jeans now, one leg dangling off the mattress, scrolling through his phone. I’m in gym shorts and no shirt because why bother. It’s just Percy.

The pizza arrives and we devour it like animals, grease on our fingers, laughing about dumb high-school memories.

“Remember when you tried to ask out Sarah Jenkins and puked on her shoes?” Percy says through a mouthful.

“Fuck you. That was food poisoning.”

“Sure it was. You were so nervous your stomach rebelled.”

I chuck a crust at him. It bounces off his chest. He picks it up and takes another bite like nothing happened.

“You’re disgusting,” I say.

“That’s why we are friends.”

We keep going like that until the pizza’s gone and the room smells like pepperoni. Percy stands up, stretches again, arms over his head. His jeans slip another inch. I see the waistband of black boxer briefs. My dick twitches. Just a little. Barely noticeable. I shift on the bed and pretend to check my phone.

Percy notices. Of course he does.

“You good, Hunter?”

“Yeah. Just tired from hauling your dramatic ass’s furniture.”

He grins. “You hauled one lamp. I did the heavy lifting.”

“Bullshit.”

He walks over to the closet, back to me, and starts shimmying out of his jeans. Right there. No warning. Jeans drop to his ankles and he kicks them off. Now he’s in nothing but those black briefs. They hug his ass perfectly. Round, firm. Fat and nice. Fuck. Why am I cataloging this?

He turns around, totally casual, scratching his stomach. “You mind if I shower first? I feel gross.”

I swallow. “Go for it. I’ll... unpack more.”

He grabs a towel and a change of clothes, then pauses at the bathroom door. “You sure you’re okay? You’re staring like I grew a second head.”

I force a laugh. “Nah. Just wondering how someone so skinny has a fat ass like that. Must be all the jazz hands.”

He cackles. “Jealousy is a disease, Calloway. Get well soon.”

The bathroom door clicks shut. Water starts running.

I sit there on my bed, heart thumping harder than it should. My dick is half-hard now. Not raging, just... interested. I stare at the ceiling and try to logic it out. It’s not like my dick knows that I am staring at a dude’s ass.

It’s just a body. Percy’s body. My best friend’s body. I’ve seen him shirtless a million times. Why does it feel different now?

Because we’re living together. Alone. No parents. No teammates walking in. Just us.

I run a hand over my face. This is stupid. I’m straight. I like pussy. I like cheer skirts and lipstick and girls who giggle when I flex and dramatically take my shirt off. I don’t like... whatever the fuck this twitch in my shorts is about.

The shower shuts off. Percy comes out a minute later in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. Water droplets on his shoulders. Hair damp and curling at the ends. He smells like that citrus body wash he always uses.

“Your turn, jock boy,” he says, flopping onto his bed. The towel parts just enough that I catch a glimpse of his smooth and toned thighs.

I stand up fast. Too fast. My shorts tent a little. I angle away so he doesn’t see his straight friend’s boner.

“Be out in ten,” I mutter, grabbing my own towel and bolting for the bathroom.

Under the shower, I try to wash the weirdness away. Soap. Shampoo. Deep breaths. But my dick stays half-hard, traitor that it is. I grip it once, give it a slow stroke, thinking about Sarah Jenkins or that blonde from orientation who was clearly giving me the eyes. But the image flickers and it’s Percy’s smirk instead. His ass in those briefs. The way the towel clung to his wet body.

I groan and punch the tile.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

It’s just curiosity. Living with a gay dude for the first time. Seeing him naked-adjacent. It’s normal to notice. Doesn’t mean anything.

I finish showering, wrap the towel tight, and step out.

Percy’s under his covers now, reading some script on his phone, fairy lights glowing soft around him. He looks up.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Much.”

I drop the towel and pull on boxers quick. He doesn’t stare. Doesn’t make a joke. Just smiles that small, knowing smile.

“Night, Hunter.”

“Night, Perce.”

I climb into bed. Lights out. The room goes quiet except for the hum of the fan and the distant thump of bass from some party down the hall.

I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, dick still traitorously interested.

Little did I know, move-in day was just the beginning. The real chaos hadn’t even started yet.

^(Everyone is 18+ and the situations described are fully consensual.)

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Me, Hunter Calloway, the guy who led the high school football team to state finals two years running, the dude with the cannon arm and the abs that make cheerleaders forget their names, moving in with a gay dude? Yeah. My gay best friend Percy Vale. Sounds like the setup for some viral TikTok drama Sounds like a setup for some bad porno or a campus prank gone wrong, right?. But fuck it, we've been bros since we were stealing beers from his dad's garage. What's the worst that could happen? A little awkwardness? Nah, it'll be fine. I'm straight as an arrow, and he's... well, Percy. Always the dramatic one, always quoting lines from movies nobody else had seen, always the first to spot when I had a crush on a girl. And I was always the one dragging him to pickup games so he wouldn’t spend every weekend rehearsing monologues in his bedroom mirror.

So when we both got into the same college and the housing office paired us as roommates in the freshman dorms, I didn’t even blink. Percy texted me a string of rainbow emojis and a “prepare your straight-boy soul, Hunter,” and I fired back with a middle-finger GIF. Business as usual. I’m straight as a goalpost. He’s Percy. What could possibly go sideways?

Move-in day hits like a linebacker. I roll up in my dad’s old F-150, bed loaded with football gear, protein shaker bottles, a mini fridge I definitely didn’t need, and three duffel bags stuffed with clothes that mostly smell like Axe body spray and grass stains. Percy’s already there, of course. He beat me by an hour because theater kids apparently wake up at dawn to claim the best side of the room. I find him standing in the middle of our tiny double, arms wide like he’s welcoming me to his kingdom. He’s wearing these stupid tight black jeans that hug his legs and a cropped band tee that shows a sliver of stomach. His dark hair is messy in that intentional way, and he’s got those wire-frame glasses that make him look like he’s about to direct an indie film.

“Hunter Calloway,” he announces in this exaggerated announcer voice, “welcome to the palace of fabulousness and questionable life choices.”

I drop my first bag with a thud. “Dude. You already claimed the left bed?”

“Obviously. Closer to the window for dramatic lighting during my monologues.”

I snort. “You’re gonna monologue in here? In front of me? While I’m trying to sleep off a hangover?”

“Exactly. You’ll be my captive audience. It’s called method acting.”

I shake my head and start unpacking. The room is classic freshman hell: two twin beds shoved against opposite walls, matching desks that look like they were built in the eighties, a shared closet that’s already half-full of Percy’s colorful hoodies and scarves, and a tiny bathroom that smells faintly of bleach and old pizza. I toss my football helmet on the desk like it’s a trophy and Percy immediately picks it up, puts it on, and strikes a pose.

“How do I look? Ready to sack some quarterbacks?”

“You look like a theater kid trying to cosplay a jock. Take it off before you dent it.”

He laughs and sets it down carefully. “Relax, Mr. Ego. I’m not gonna ruin your precious helmet. I respect the sacred jock artifacts.”

We fall into our usual rhythm fast. I haul in the rest of my shit while Percy organizes his side like it’s a stage set. He’s got posters of old Broadway shows taped up already, a string of fairy lights draped over his headboard, and a little plant he swears is going to survive college. I’ve got my playbook, a stack of protein bars, and a poster of Tom Brady that Percy immediately rolls his eyes at.

“Really, Hunter? Tom Brady? In 2026? You’re living in the past.”

“Tom Brady is timeless, bro. Show some respect.”

“Timeless like your taste in women, apparently. Still chasing cheerleader types?”

I grin and flex one arm just to mess with him. “Jealous?”

“Of your predictable type? Hard pass. I like a little variety.”

We banter like that the whole afternoon. It’s easy. It’s us. Every time I catch him staring a second too long while I’m bent over unpacking, I chalk it up to him being Percy. Dramatic. Observant. Gay. No big deal. And every time I notice how his jeans ride low when he stretches, or how his shirt rides up and shows that smooth strip of skin above his waistband, I tell myself it’s nothing. Just noticing. Bros notice shit about each other. Right?

By evening we’re both sweaty from hauling boxes and the dorm AC is fighting a losing battle. Percy strips off his shirt without a second thought, tosses it on his bed, and starts fanning himself with a play script.

“Jesus, it’s a sauna in here,” he says. “You gonna stand there gawking or help me find the fan?”

I blink. His chest is lean, defined in that wiry theater-kid way. Not bulky like mine, but cut. Flat stomach, faint happy trail disappearing into those low jeans. My mouth goes dry for half a second before I snap out of it.

“Dude. Put a shirt on. You’re gonna blind me with all that pale skin.”

He smirks and flexes dramatically. “This is art, Hunter. Appreciate it.”

I laugh it off and dig through my bag, but my brain glitches. Why the fuck did I just stare? It’s Percy. My best friend. The same guy who cried when we lost the championship game senior year and I hugged him in the locker room like it was nothing. The same guy who used to sleep over and steal all the blankets. This is normal. Right?

We finally get the fan going, order pizza, and crash on our beds with the door open so the hallway noise drifts in. Percy’s sprawled out in just his jeans now, one leg dangling off the mattress, scrolling through his phone. I’m in gym shorts and no shirt because why bother. It’s just Percy.

The pizza arrives and we devour it like animals, grease on our fingers, laughing about dumb high-school memories.

“Remember when you tried to ask out Sarah Jenkins and puked on her shoes?” Percy says through a mouthful.

“Fuck you. That was food poisoning.”

“Sure it was. You were so nervous your stomach rebelled.”

I chuck a crust at him. It bounces off his chest. He picks it up and takes another bite like nothing happened.

“You’re disgusting,” I say.

“That’s why we are friends.”

We keep going like that until the pizza’s gone and the room smells like pepperoni. Percy stands up, stretches again, arms over his head. His jeans slip another inch. I see the waistband of black boxer briefs. My dick twitches. Just a little. Barely noticeable. I shift on the bed and pretend to check my phone.

Percy notices. Of course he does.

“You good, Hunter?”

“Yeah. Just tired from hauling your dramatic ass’s furniture.”

He grins. “You hauled one lamp. I did the heavy lifting.”

“Bullshit.”

He walks over to the closet, back to me, and starts shimmying out of his jeans. Right there. No warning. Jeans drop to his ankles and he kicks them off. Now he’s in nothing but those black briefs. They hug his ass perfectly. Round, firm. Fat and nice. Fuck. Why am I cataloging this?

He turns around, totally casual, scratching his stomach. “You mind if I shower first? I feel gross.”

I swallow. “Go for it. I’ll... unpack more.”

He grabs a towel and a change of clothes, then pauses at the bathroom door. “You sure you’re okay? You’re staring like I grew a second head.”

I force a laugh. “Nah. Just wondering how someone so skinny has a fat ass like that. Must be all the jazz hands.”

He cackles. “Jealousy is a disease, Calloway. Get well soon.”

The bathroom door clicks shut. Water starts running.

I sit there on my bed, heart thumping harder than it should. My dick is half-hard now. Not raging, just... interested. I stare at the ceiling and try to logic it out. It’s not like my dick knows that I am staring at a dude’s ass.

It’s just a body. Percy’s body. My best friend’s body. I’ve seen him shirtless a million times. Why does it feel different now?

Because we’re living together. Alone. No parents. No teammates walking in. Just us.

I run a hand over my face. This is stupid. I’m straight. I like pussy. I like cheer skirts and lipstick and girls who giggle when I flex and dramatically take my shirt off. I don’t like... whatever the fuck this twitch in my shorts is about.

The shower shuts off. Percy comes out a minute later in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. Water droplets on his shoulders. Hair damp and curling at the ends. He smells like that citrus body wash he always uses.

“Your turn, jock boy,” he says, flopping onto his bed. The towel parts just enough that I catch a glimpse of his smooth and toned thighs.

I stand up fast. Too fast. My shorts tent a little. I angle away so he doesn’t see his straight friend’s boner.

“Be out in ten,” I mutter, grabbing my own towel and bolting for the bathroom.

Under the shower, I try to wash the weirdness away. Soap. Shampoo. Deep breaths. But my dick stays half-hard, traitor that it is. I grip it once, give it a slow stroke, thinking about Sarah Jenkins or that blonde from orientation who was clearly giving me the eyes. But the image flickers and it’s Percy’s smirk instead. His ass in those briefs. The way the towel clung to his wet body.

I groan and punch the tile.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

It’s just curiosity. Living with a gay dude for the first time. Seeing him naked-adjacent. It’s normal to notice. Doesn’t mean anything.

I finish showering, wrap the towel tight, and step out.

Percy’s under his covers now, reading some script on his phone, fairy lights glowing soft around him. He looks up.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Much.”

I drop the towel and pull on boxers quick. He doesn’t stare. Doesn’t make a joke. Just smiles that small, knowing smile.

“Night, Hunter.”

“Night, Perce.”

I climb into bed. Lights out. The room goes quiet except for the hum of the fan and the distant thump of bass from some party down the hall.

I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, dick still traitorously interested.

Little did I know, move-in day was just the beginning. The real chaos hadn’t even started yet.
-

Head to my Patreon to read everything early + exclusive extras before anywhere else.

#2 - My Gay Roommate's Ass Crack

Everyone is 18+ and the situations described are fully consensual.

“You don’t mind if I sleep naked, do you?”

My roommate's older brother Cruz asked the question like it was the most casual thing in the world. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down his thick thighs.

It was late on Saturday night and I was in the middle of pulling the sheets back on my bed when he said it. He had already made up his mind that he was sleeping in my bed tonight because apparently he hated sleeping alone in new places.

“Yeah, it is fine… I guess,” I replied, my voice coming out quieter than I wanted. I pulled my shirt over my head, stripped down to my underwear, and climbed into bed on my side, turning away from him so I faced the wall. My heart was already hammering against my ribs so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Cruz got in right behind me. The mattress dipped heavily under his weight. I felt the heat of his body before he even touched me, radiating off his skin like a furnace.

“You know how I hate wearing clothes,” he said with a low laugh as he settled in. “And it's you. You've already seen everything anyway.”

I lay there staring at the blank wall trying to process what was happening. Taylor’s older brother was now completely naked in my bed. This was the same guy who had jerked off in front of me while eating pizza on a Friday night, the same guy who had fed me his cum with his fingers, the same guy whose thick load I had swallowed on my knees just this morning. And now we were sharing a bed like it was normal. I was way past the denial stage. Whatever was going to happen tonight was going to happen. There was no point pretending anymore. My cock was already half hard again just from the thought of him lying naked behind me.

He lay on his back for a minute, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable. Then he rolled onto his side behind me, facing my back. His breath brushed warm against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Back home I could never fall asleep without cuddling my girl,” he said quietly. “That's why sleeping alone feels so fucking weird right now.”

A strange little twist pulled in my chest. I was not sure if it was jealousy or curiosity or something else entirely. The idea of him cuddling someone else every night made my stomach feel weird.

“You have a girlfriend?” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Cruz chuckled, the sound vibrating against my skin.

“Nah. We broke up a few days before I drove up here. She did not want to do long distance if I moved for the job. So now it's just me… and this weird empty feeling at night.”

He moved closer. One heavy, muscular arm slid over my waist and pulled me back against him. His thick cock, already half hard, pressed firmly against my ass through the thin fabric of my underwear. The heat of it made my breath catch in my throat. I could feel the weight of him, the way it throbbed slightly against me.

“You don’t have an issue with this, yeah?”

I hesitated for only a second before the words slipped out.

“Nah…Not really”

No more pretending I did not want this. I pushed my ass back against his cock, grinding slowly. His breathing got heavier instantly. He moved fully behind me, his massive chest pressing against my back, his thick thighs molding perfectly to the shape of my legs. His heavy cock nestled right between my ass cheeks, only my underwear separating us. I could feel every inch of him, hot and thick and starting to throb harder with every slow movement.

“Well, you walked off this morning, so I thought you were weirded out,” he murmured against the back of my neck, his stubble brushing my skin.

I frowned slightly. “Weirded out? When?”

“When you swallowed my load,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You did not even give me a chance to jerk you off.”

My mind spun. Jerk me off? He had actually wanted to touch me? All this time I thought I was just his convenient little outlet, but maybe he had been thinking about me too. The idea sent a fresh wave of heat through my body and made my cock twitch hard inside my underwear.

I reached down, took his hand that was resting on my waist, and slowly guided it to the front of my underwear. I pressed his rough palm against my aching bulge.

“Well… now you can return the favor.”

Cruz did not hesitate. His big, manly hand started stroking me over the fabric, slow and firm. At the same time he began grinding his cock against my ass in slow and lazy movements. His cock grew fully hard within seconds, and I could feel his precum starting to leak through my underwear from behind. Every few minutes he would push forward a little harder, pressing us even closer together until there was almost no space left between our bodies.

Then his hand slipped inside my underwear.

The second his rough fingers wrapped around my bare cock, I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud. His grip was strong and confident, nothing like my own hand. The contrast between his thick construction-worker fingers and my smaller dick made my head spin. He stroked me slowly, thumb brushing over the leaking head, spreading my precum around while his own hard cock continued to grind between my cheeks.

“It’s not that different from stroking yourself,” he said casually, voice low in my ear.

I was breathing hard now. “What do you mean?”

“Jerking off a dude,” he replied simply.

I turned my head back to look at him, shocked. “Wait… is this your first time with a guy?”

Cruz looked straight into my eyes and nodded.

“Shit, you are way too comfortable for a straight guy’s first time,” I said, half laughing, half in disbelief.

Cruz laughed softly, his hand still slowly working my cock. “Maybe you just remind me of my girlfriend a little.” His hand slid out of my underwear and moved back, cupping my ass and giving it a firm squeeze through the fabric. “I have always jerked off side by side with the dudes in college, but this is the first time I have actually touched someone.”

I smiled, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside me. The fact that this was new to him too somehow made everything feel even dirtier and more intense.

I got a little bolder and pushed my ass back against his hand again.

“Well… have you thought about doing more?”, I asked.

Cruz’s hand suddenly stopped squeezing my ass and he slowly pulled it out of my underwear completely.

“You mean…fucking you?”

“Yeah… I mean… if you want to,” I stammered, suddenly feeling extremely exposed as I stared at the wall again. “Like… only if you wanna try it.”

Silence filled the room. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Had I just crossed the line? He was literally grinding his naked cock against my ass, but actually asking to get fucked felt like stepping into completely new territory.

After what felt like forever I turned my head back to look at him, nervous about whatever expression I would find on his face. My stomach was twisting in knots. Part of me was scared he would laugh and tell me I was crazy. But a bigger part of me was already buzzing with excitement at the thought that he might actually say yes. That this massive, straight, tatted construction worker lying naked behind me might really want to fuck me tonight. I could barely breathe as I waited for his answer.

^(Everyone is 18+ and the situations described are fully consensual.)

“You don’t mind if I sleep naked, do you?”

My roommate's older brother Cruz asked the question like it was the most casual thing in the world. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down his thick thighs. It was late on Saturday night and I was in the middle of pulling the sheets back on my bed when he said it. He had already made up his mind that he was sleeping in my bed tonight because apparently he hated sleeping alone in new places.

“Yeah, it is fine… I guess,” I replied, my voice coming out quieter than I wanted. I pulled my shirt over my head, stripped down to my underwear, and climbed into bed on my side, turning away from him so I faced the wall. My heart was already hammering against my ribs so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Cruz got in right behind me. The mattress dipped heavily under his weight. I felt the heat of his body before he even touched me, radiating off his skin like a furnace.

“You know how I hate wearing clothes,” he said with a low laugh as he settled in. “And it's you. You've already seen everything anyway.”

I lay there staring at the blank wall trying to process what was happening. Taylor’s older brother was now completely naked in my bed. This was the same guy who had jerked off in front of me while eating pizza on a Friday night, the same guy who had fed me his cum with his fingers, the same guy whose thick load I had swallowed on my knees just this morning. And now we were sharing a bed like it was normal. I was way past the denial stage. Whatever was going to happen tonight was going to happen. There was no point pretending anymore. My cock was already half hard again just from the thought of him lying naked behind me.

He lay on his back for a minute, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable. Then he rolled onto his side behind me, facing my back. His breath brushed warm against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Back home I could never fall asleep without cuddling my girl,” he said quietly. “That's why sleeping alone feels so fucking weird right now.”

A strange little twist pulled in my chest. I was not sure if it was jealousy or curiosity or something else entirely. The idea of him cuddling someone else every night made my stomach feel weird.

“You have a girlfriend?” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Cruz chuckled, the sound vibrating against my skin.

“Nah. We broke up a few days before I drove up here. She did not want to do long distance if I moved for the job. So now it's just me… and this weird empty feeling at night.”

He moved closer. One heavy, muscular arm slid over my waist and pulled me back against him. His thick cock, already half hard, pressed firmly against my ass through the thin fabric of my underwear. The heat of it made my breath catch in my throat. I could feel the weight of him, the way it throbbed slightly against me.

“You don’t have an issue with this, yeah?”

I hesitated for only a second before the words slipped out.

“Nah…Not really”

No more pretending I did not want this. I pushed my ass back against his cock, grinding slowly. His breathing got heavier instantly. He moved fully behind me, his massive chest pressing against my back, his thick thighs molding perfectly to the shape of my legs. His heavy cock nestled right between my ass cheeks, only my underwear separating us. I could feel every inch of him, hot and thick and starting to throb harder with every slow movement.

“Well, you walked off this morning, so I thought you were weirded out,” he murmured against the back of my neck, his stubble brushing my skin.

I frowned slightly. “Weirded out? When?”

“When you swallowed my load,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You did not even give me a chance to jerk you off.”

My mind spun. Jerk me off? He had actually wanted to touch me? All this time I thought I was just his convenient little outlet, but maybe he had been thinking about me too. The idea sent a fresh wave of heat through my body and made my cock twitch hard inside my underwear.

I reached down, took his hand that was resting on my waist, and slowly guided it to the front of my underwear. I pressed his rough palm against my aching bulge.

“Well… now you can return the favor.”

Cruz did not hesitate. His big, manly hand started stroking me over the fabric, slow and firm. At the same time he began grinding his cock against my ass in slow and lazy movements. His cock grew fully hard within seconds, and I could feel his precum starting to leak through my underwear from behind. Every few minutes he would push forward a little harder, pressing us even closer together until there was almost no space left between our bodies.

Then his hand slipped inside my underwear.

The second his rough fingers wrapped around my bare cock, I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud. His grip was strong and confident, nothing like my own hand. The contrast between his thick construction-worker fingers and my smaller dick made my head spin. He stroked me slowly, thumb brushing over the leaking head, spreading my precum around while his own hard cock continued to grind between my cheeks.

“It’s not that different from stroking yourself,” he said casually, voice low in my ear.

I was breathing hard now. “What do you mean?”

“Jerking off a dude,” he replied simply.

I turned my head back to look at him, shocked. “Wait… is this your first time with a guy?”

Cruz looked straight into my eyes and nodded.

“Shit, you are way too comfortable for a straight guy’s first time,” I said, half laughing, half in disbelief.

Cruz laughed softly, his hand still slowly working my cock. “Maybe you just remind me of my girlfriend a little.” His hand slid out of my underwear and moved back, cupping my ass and giving it a firm squeeze through the fabric. “I have always jerked off side by side with the dudes in college, but this is the first time I have actually touched someone.”

I smiled, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside me. The fact that this was new to him too somehow made everything feel even dirtier and more intense.

I got a little bolder and pushed my ass back against his hand again.

“Well… have you thought about doing more?”, I asked.

Cruz’s hand suddenly stopped squeezing my ass and he slowly pulled it out of my underwear completely.

“You mean…fucking you?”

“Yeah… I mean… if you want to,” I stammered, suddenly feeling extremely exposed as I stared at the wall again. “Like… only if you wanna try it.”

Silence filled the room. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Had I just crossed the line? He was literally grinding his naked cock against my ass, but actually asking to get fucked felt like stepping into completely new territory.

After what felt like forever I turned my head back to look at him, nervous about whatever expression I would find on his face. My stomach was twisting in knots. Part of me was scared he would laugh and tell me I was crazy. But a bigger part of me was already buzzing with excitement at the thought that he might actually say yes. That this massive, straight, tatted construction worker lying naked behind me might really want to fuck me tonight. I could barely breathe as I waited for his answer.

^(Everyone is 18+ and the situations described are fully consensual.)

“You don’t mind if I sleep naked, do you?”

Cruz asked the question like it was the most casual thing in the world as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down his thick thighs. It was late on Saturday night and I was in the middle of pulling the sheets back on my bed when he said it. He had already made up his mind that he was sleeping in my bed tonight because apparently he hated sleeping alone in new places.

“Yeah, it is fine… I guess,” I replied, my voice coming out quieter than I wanted. I pulled my shirt over my head, stripped down to my underwear, and climbed into bed on my side, turning away from him so I faced the wall. My heart was already hammering against my ribs so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Cruz got in right behind me. The mattress dipped heavily under his weight. I felt the heat of his body before he even touched me, radiating off his skin like a furnace.

“You know how I hate wearing clothes,” he said with a low laugh as he settled in. “And it's you. You've already seen everything anyway.”

I lay there staring at the blank wall trying to process what was happening. Taylor’s older brother was now completely naked in my bed. This was the same guy who had jerked off in front of me while eating pizza on a Friday night, the same guy who had fed me his cum with his fingers, the same guy whose thick load I had swallowed on my knees just this morning. And now we were sharing a bed like it was normal. I was way past the denial stage. Whatever was going to happen tonight was going to happen. There was no point pretending anymore. My cock was already half hard again just from the thought of him lying naked behind me.

He lay on his back for a minute, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable. Then he rolled onto his side behind me, facing my back. His breath brushed warm against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Back home I could never fall asleep without cuddling my girl,” he said quietly. “That's why sleeping alone feels so fucking weird right now.”

A strange little twist pulled in my chest. I was not sure if it was jealousy or curiosity or something else entirely. The idea of him cuddling someone else every night made my stomach feel weird.

“You have a girlfriend?” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Cruz chuckled, the sound vibrating against my skin.

“Nah. We broke up a few days before I drove up here. She did not want to do long distance if I moved for the job. So now it's just me… and this weird empty feeling at night.”

He moved closer. One heavy, muscular arm slid over my waist and pulled me back against him. His thick cock, already half hard, pressed firmly against my ass through the thin fabric of my underwear. The heat of it made my breath catch in my throat. I could feel the weight of him, the way it throbbed slightly against me.

“You don’t have an issue with this, yeah?”

I hesitated for only a second before the words slipped out.

“Nah…Not really”

No more pretending I did not want this. I pushed my ass back against his cock, grinding slowly. His breathing got heavier instantly. He moved fully behind me, his massive chest pressing against my back, his thick thighs molding perfectly to the shape of my legs. His heavy cock nestled right between my ass cheeks, only my underwear separating us. I could feel every inch of him, hot and thick and starting to throb harder with every slow movement.

“Well, you walked off this morning, so I thought you were weirded out,” he murmured against the back of my neck, his stubble brushing my skin.

I frowned slightly. “Weirded out? When?”

“When you swallowed my load,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You did not even give me a chance to jerk you off.”

My mind spun. Jerk me off? He had actually wanted to touch me? All this time I thought I was just his convenient little outlet, but maybe he had been thinking about me too. The idea sent a fresh wave of heat through my body and made my cock twitch hard inside my underwear.

I reached down, took his hand that was resting on my waist, and slowly guided it to the front of my underwear. I pressed his rough palm against my aching bulge.

“Well… now you can return the favor.”

Cruz did not hesitate. His big, manly hand started stroking me over the fabric, slow and firm. At the same time he began grinding his cock against my ass in slow and lazy movements. His cock grew fully hard within seconds, and I could feel his precum starting to leak through my underwear from behind. Every few minutes he would push forward a little harder, pressing us even closer together until there was almost no space left between our bodies.

Then his hand slipped inside my underwear.

The second his rough fingers wrapped around my bare cock, I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud. His grip was strong and confident, nothing like my own hand. The contrast between his thick construction-worker fingers and my smaller dick made my head spin. He stroked me slowly, thumb brushing over the leaking head, spreading my precum around while his own hard cock continued to grind between my cheeks.

“It’s not that different from stroking yourself,” he said casually, voice low in my ear.

I was breathing hard now. “What do you mean?”

“Jerking off a dude,” he replied simply.

I turned my head back to look at him, shocked. “Wait… is this your first time with a guy?”

Cruz looked straight into my eyes and nodded.

“Shit, you are way too comfortable for a straight guy’s first time,” I said, half laughing, half in disbelief.

Cruz laughed softly, his hand still slowly working my cock. “Maybe you just remind me of my girlfriend a little.” His hand slid out of my underwear and moved back, cupping my ass and giving it a firm squeeze through the fabric. “I have always jerked off side by side with the dudes in college, but this is the first time I have actually touched someone.”

I smiled, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside me. The fact that this was new to him too somehow made everything feel even dirtier and more intense.

I got a little bolder and pushed my ass back against his hand again.

“Well… have you thought about doing more?”, I asked.

Cruz’s hand suddenly stopped squeezing my ass and he slowly pulled it out of my underwear completely.

“You mean…fucking you?”

“Yeah… I mean… if you want to,” I stammered, suddenly feeling extremely exposed as I stared at the wall again. “Like… only if you wanna try it.”

Silence filled the room. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Had I just crossed the line? He was literally grinding his naked cock against my ass, but actually asking to get fucked felt like stepping into completely new territory.

After what felt like forever I turned my head back to look at him, nervous about whatever expression I would find on his face. My stomach was twisting in knots. Part of me was scared he would laugh and tell me I was crazy. But a bigger part of me was already buzzing with excitement at the thought that he might actually say yes. That this massive, straight, tatted construction worker lying naked behind me might really want to fuck me tonight. I could barely breathe as I waited for his answer.

Want to read further? The entire My Roommate's Older Brother story is available to read right now.

Head to my Patreon to read everything early plus exclusive extras before anywhere else.

My Roommate’s Older Brother #5
My Roommate’s Older Brother #6
My Roommate’s Older Brother #7

Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.

I woke up on my stomach with my face buried deep in the pillow and my hips already moving on their own. My morning wood was aching and rock hard, trapped inside my underwear that had grown damp with a large wet spot of precum. Without thinking I started grinding slowly against the mattress, the friction sending little sparks through my entire body. My mind was flooded with everything that had happened last night. I could still picture the thick white ropes of Cruz’s cum shooting across his tatted abs, the way some of it had splattered onto the pizza slice, and the salty warm taste when he pushed his fingers between my lips. I had actually swallowed his load. Or at least licked it straight from his skin like I was starving for it.

What the fuck had happened to me last night. I should have said no the second he asked. I should have told him that was weird, that he was my roommate’s older brother, and pushed his hand away. But instead I leaned in without hesitation and licked every drop he offered me. I had jerked him off while he casually ate pizza like it was the most normal thing in the world. And the worst part, the part that made my cock throb even harder against the sheets, was that I wanted to do it again. Not just stroke him this time. I wanted that thick cock in my mouth. I wanted to feel it stretch my lips and pulse against my tongue while he groaned and told me what a good boy I was. The thought made me grin into the pillow as I humped the mattress a little faster, imagining his rough hands resting on the back of my head and guiding me down on to that big cock.

I caught myself right before I went too far and let out a nervous laugh into the fabric. I forced my hips to stop moving, even though my balls felt heavy and my cock was begging for release.

Get it together you fucking idiot, I told myself.

I rolled out of bed on shaky legs and stood there for a moment trying to catch my breath. My underwear was tented obscenely in front and the wet precum spot had grown even larger. I tried rubbing at it with my thumb but that only smeared the sticky fluid around and made the fabric cling even more to the head of my dick. Whatever. It did not matter. I adjusted myself as best as I could, took a deep breath, and walked out of my room toward the living room.

Cruz was sprawled across the couch with a thin blanket draped loosely over his legs. He was scrolling on his phone, the morning light cutting across his broad shoulders and the dark ink that covered his skin. He looked relaxed but a little tired, like he had not gotten much rest. I tried to sound casual even though my heart was already racing again.

“Yo, why’d you sleep on the couch?”

Cruz turned his head and looked back at me. A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“I did not really sleep much at all. New places always mess with my head. I have always hated sleeping alone in strange beds. It feels too quiet, too empty.”

He shifted a little under the blanket and kept talking in that easy, low voice.

“I even walked over to your room around two in the morning to see if I could crash with you, but you were dead asleep, face down with your ass pushed up in the air like you were presenting or something. Did not want to be that creepy guy who wakes someone up in the middle of the night, so I came back out here, put on some dumb fucking movie, and eventually passed out on the couch a few hours ago.”

I walked around to the other side of the couch so I was standing right in front of him. My pulse was hammering in my ears.

“Damn man, you should have woken me up. I wouldn't have minded at all.”

Cruz’s eyes moved slowly up and down my body. They lingered for a long second on the obvious tent in my underwear before flicking back up to my face. That smirk grew a little wider.

“You looked way too comfortable. Ass all pushed up like that… it was kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

My face instantly burned. The image of Cruz standing in my doorway last night, watching me sleep with my ass stretched out for him, sent a fresh rush of blood straight to my cock. I could feel myself getting even harder, the wet spot spreading further across the front of my underwear. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to turn my hips slightly so he would not see how bad it was, but it was useless.

“Yeah… I uh… I like sleeping on my stomach,” I managed to say, my voice cracking halfway through.

Cruz let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how flustered I was getting. His eyes dropped back down to my bulge again.

“Morning wood, eh?”

Then, he reached down and yanked the blanket completely off his legs. He was naked underneath. His thick cock was already semi hard, resting heavy against his thigh and starting to pulse and lift as it filled with blood right in front of me.

“Me too, bro… me too.”

We both laughed at the same time, the sound awkward and nervous on my end, easy and deep on his. It broke some of the tension but not nearly enough. Cruz stayed lounging on the couch, completely naked, while I stood there in nothing but my stained underwear trying to act like this was normal morning conversation.

He kept the casual vibe going like nothing had changed. He stretched one thick arm behind his head and started talking about his interview on Monday.

“Man, I am actually nervous as fuck about this job even though I act like I do not give a shit. It is a big foreman position. Better pay, better hours, and if I get it I can finally move to the city instead of driving back and forth every weekend. I have been doing construction since I was nineteen. I know my shit, but these city guys always want you to talk a certain way. I keep practicing answers in my head but every time I do I get this stupid knot in my stomach.”

I tried to respond normally, nodding and mumbling things like “Yeah that sounds intense” and “You will probably crush it,” but my eyes kept drifting down against my will. Every few seconds they would lock onto his cock. It was no longer just semi hard. While he talked it had continued to swell and lift until it stood thick and heavy against his lower abs, the head already glistening with fresh precum. I could not stop staring. No matter how hard I tried to focus on his face or the ceiling or anything else, my gaze kept sliding back to that thick veiny shaft and the way it pulsed slowly with his heartbeat.

Cruz finally noticed. He let the silence stretch for a second, then shrugged with that signature lazy smirk. His cock gave one heavy throb and a fresh bead of precum rolled down the side of the head.

“Dude, you keep staring at my cock like you want it.”

I opened my mouth to deny it but the words died in my throat. My own dick was rock hard, tenting my underwear obscenely, the wet spot now impossible to hide. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, face burning.

“I… I was not…”

Cruz laughed low and wrapped one big hand around the base of his cock, giving it a slow stroke while he looked straight at me.

“C’mon. You literally tasted my cum last night. Don’t fucking pretend you don’t want another taste.”

The shame hit me hard. Shame, lust, and the constant fear that my roommate Taylor would somehow find out flooded through my chest all at once. This was his brother. My roommate. I should have turned around and walked back to my room. But the pull was too strong. My mouth had already gone dry and my legs felt weak.

I swallowed hard and whispered, “Uhm… what about Taylor though?”

Cruz raised an eyebrow like the question was ridiculous.

“My brother? Fuck him. He does not have to find out about this.”

He sat up a little straighter on the couch and spread his legs wider.

“Come here.”

My feet moved before my brain could argue. I walked over and slowly dropped to my knees on the floor right in front of him. Cruz shifted forward so he was sitting straight up with his legs on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. He leaned back against the cushions and looked down at me with dark, calm eyes.

“He does not have to find out about this, trust me” he repeated softly.

I looked up at him, then back down at his cock, then up at him again. In the morning light it looked even bigger. It had to be over eight inches, thick and heavy with a slight upward curve. The shaft was covered in raised veins that stood out under the smooth skin. The cut head was flushed dark and shiny, a steady stream of clear precum dripping down the length in slow thick trails. Below it hung a pair of large, low balls covered in short dark hair, full and heavy like they had been saving up all night.

Cruz stroked himself once, slowly, then reached out and gently rested his hand on the back of my head.

“Yeah bro, don't worry about it.”

My lips parted and wrapped around the head. The taste exploded across my tongue immediately, salty and musky and much stronger than last night. Morning cock had a deeper, richer flavor that made my head spin.

“Easy… just the head at first,” he murmured, voice low and approving.

I started sucking carefully, just the head at first like he had told me. I followed his instruction, swirling my tongue around the leaking tip and sucking gently. After a minute I grew braver and took more of him, sliding my lips further down the thick shaft. He groaned quietly.

“Yeah, just like that.”

I pushed deeper until I felt the head bump the back of my throat. My eyes watered but I kept going, relaxing my throat until my nose pressed against his pubes and his entire cock disappeared into my mouth. Cruz’s hips bucked up once in surprise.

“Shit, you have clearly done this before.”

The praise made something warm bloom in my stomach. I started sucking him for real then, slow and wet and hungry. Saliva ran down his shaft and dripped onto his balls. Every time I took him deep I gagged softly and the sound seemed to turn him on more. Cruz kept one hand on the back of my head, not forcing me but guiding my rhythm with gentle pressure.

“Good boy… deeper… fuck, you are a natural.”

The taste kept flooding my mouth, that same thick salty flavor from last night but fresher, stronger in the morning. His musk was heavier too, filling my nose every time I buried my face in his lap. I sucked him with long, sloppy strokes, hollowing my cheeks and working my tongue along the underside of his shaft. Cruz’s low groans grew deeper and his abs started to tighten.

“Yeah boy, I’m close.”

He suddenly pulled my face off his cock with a wet pop. Strings of saliva connected my lips to the shiny head. I was breathing hard, lips swollen and dripping, my own cock throbbing painfully in my ruined underwear.

Cruz leaned forward, cupped my jaw with one hand and looked straight into my eyes.

“You swallow?”

His voice was soft.

I nodded quickly, unable to speak.

He guided my mouth back onto his cock, this time with a little more purpose. His hips started to move, fucking my face in slow, deep thrusts. His abs contracted visibly with every push. His breathing grew rough. He closed his eyes, head tilting back against the couch.

After a few more strokes his whole body tensed. I felt his cock swell even thicker against my tongue. The first powerful spurt of his cum hit the back of my throat, thick and hot. Then another, and another, heavy ropes of morning cum flooding my mouth in strong pulses. It was thicker than last night, almost creamy, and there was so much of it I had to swallow fast to keep up. Cruz held my head gently but firmly through every pulse, groaning deep in his chest as he emptied himself down my throat.

“Fucking shit, bro.”

When he finally finished he stayed in my mouth for a few seconds longer, breathing hard. Slowly he pulled out, his cock wet and glistening with my saliva. He leaned back against the couch, looking completely satisfied, and ran his thumb gently across my glossy cum streaked lips.

“Damn. That is one way to spend a Saturday morning.”

I stayed on my knees for a moment, dazed, throat warm and full, lips tingling. A small, shy smile tugged at the corner of my mouth even though my face was burning. I finally pushed myself up on shaky legs, my own untouched cock still straining and leaking in my underwear.

Without saying anything else I turned and walked back toward my room, the taste of Cruz’s thick morning load still heavy on my tongue.

Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.

I woke up on my stomach with my face buried deep in the pillow and my hips already moving on their own. My morning wood was aching and rock hard, trapped inside my underwear that had grown damp with a large wet spot of precum. Without thinking I started grinding slowly against the mattress, the friction sending little sparks through my entire body. My mind was flooded with everything that had happened last night. I could still picture the thick white ropes of Cruz’s cum shooting across his tatted abs, the way some of it had splattered onto the pizza slice, and the salty warm taste when he pushed his fingers between my lips. I had actually swallowed his load. Or at least licked it straight from his skin like I was starving for it.

What the fuck had happened to me last night. I should have said no the second he asked. I should have told him that was weird, that he was my roommate’s older brother, and pushed his hand away. But instead I leaned in without hesitation and licked every drop he offered me. I had jerked him off while he casually ate pizza like it was the most normal thing in the world. And the worst part, the part that made my cock throb even harder against the sheets, was that I wanted to do it again. Not just stroke him this time. I wanted that thick cock in my mouth. I wanted to feel it stretch my lips and pulse against my tongue while he groaned and told me what a good boy I was. The thought made me grin into the pillow as I humped the mattress a little faster, imagining his rough hands resting on the back of my head and guiding me down on to that big cock.

I caught myself right before I went too far and let out a nervous laugh into the fabric. I forced my hips to stop moving, even though my balls felt heavy and my cock was begging for release.

Get it together you fucking idiot, I told myself.

I rolled out of bed on shaky legs and stood there for a moment trying to catch my breath. My underwear was tented obscenely in front and the wet precum spot had grown even larger. I tried rubbing at it with my thumb but that only smeared the sticky fluid around and made the fabric cling even more to the head of my dick. Whatever. It did not matter. I adjusted myself as best as I could, took a deep breath, and walked out of my room toward the living room.

Cruz was sprawled across the couch with a thin blanket draped loosely over his legs. He was scrolling on his phone, the morning light cutting across his broad shoulders and the dark ink that covered his skin. He looked relaxed but a little tired, like he had not gotten much rest. I tried to sound casual even though my heart was already racing again.

“Yo, why’d you sleep on the couch?”

Cruz turned his head and looked back at me. A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“I did not really sleep much at all. New places always mess with my head. I have always hated sleeping alone in strange beds. It feels too quiet, too empty.”

He shifted a little under the blanket and kept talking in that easy, low voice.

“I even walked over to your room around two in the morning to see if I could crash with you, but you were dead asleep, face down with your ass pushed up in the air like you were presenting or something. Did not want to be that creepy guy who wakes someone up in the middle of the night, so I came back out here, put on some dumb fucking movie, and eventually passed out on the couch a few hours ago.”

I walked around to the other side of the couch so I was standing right in front of him. My pulse was hammering in my ears.

“Damn man, you should have woken me up. I wouldn't have minded at all.”

Cruz’s eyes moved slowly up and down my body. They lingered for a long second on the obvious tent in my underwear before flicking back up to my face. That smirk grew a little wider.

“You looked way too comfortable. Ass all pushed up like that… it was kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

My face instantly burned. The image of Cruz standing in my doorway last night, watching me sleep with my ass stretched out for him, sent a fresh rush of blood straight to my cock. I could feel myself getting even harder, the wet spot spreading further across the front of my underwear. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to turn my hips slightly so he would not see how bad it was, but it was useless.

“Yeah… I uh… I like sleeping on my stomach,” I managed to say, my voice cracking halfway through.

Cruz let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how flustered I was getting. His eyes dropped back down to my bulge again.

“Morning wood, eh?”

Then, he reached down and yanked the blanket completely off his legs. He was naked underneath. His thick cock was already semi hard, resting heavy against his thigh and starting to pulse and lift as it filled with blood right in front of me.

“Me too, bro… me too.”

We both laughed at the same time, the sound awkward and nervous on my end, easy and deep on his. It broke some of the tension but not nearly enough. Cruz stayed lounging on the couch, completely naked, while I stood there in nothing but my stained underwear trying to act like this was normal morning conversation.

He kept the casual vibe going like nothing had changed. He stretched one thick arm behind his head and started talking about his interview on Monday.

“Man, I am actually nervous as fuck about this job even though I act like I do not give a shit. It is a big foreman position. Better pay, better hours, and if I get it I can finally move to the city instead of driving back and forth every weekend. I have been doing construction since I was nineteen. I know my shit, but these city guys always want you to talk a certain way. I keep practicing answers in my head but every time I do I get this stupid knot in my stomach.”

I tried to respond normally, nodding and mumbling things like “Yeah that sounds intense” and “You will probably crush it,” but my eyes kept drifting down against my will. Every few seconds they would lock onto his cock. It was no longer just semi hard. While he talked it had continued to swell and lift until it stood thick and heavy against his lower abs, the head already glistening with fresh precum. I could not stop staring. No matter how hard I tried to focus on his face or the ceiling or anything else, my gaze kept sliding back to that thick veiny shaft and the way it pulsed slowly with his heartbeat.

Cruz finally noticed. He let the silence stretch for a second, then shrugged with that signature lazy smirk. His cock gave one heavy throb and a fresh bead of precum rolled down the side of the head.

“Dude, you keep staring at my cock like you want it.”

I opened my mouth to deny it but the words died in my throat. My own dick was rock hard, tenting my underwear obscenely, the wet spot now impossible to hide. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, face burning.

“I… I was not…”

Cruz laughed low and wrapped one big hand around the base of his cock, giving it a slow stroke while he looked straight at me.

“C’mon. You literally tasted my cum last night. Don’t fucking pretend you don’t want another taste.”

The shame hit me hard. Shame, lust, and the constant fear that my roommate Taylor would somehow find out flooded through my chest all at once. This was his brother. My roommate. I should have turned around and walked back to my room. But the pull was too strong. My mouth had already gone dry and my legs felt weak.

I swallowed hard and whispered, “Uhm… what about Taylor though?”

Cruz raised an eyebrow like the question was ridiculous.

“My brother? Fuck him. He does not have to find out about this.”

He sat up a little straighter on the couch and spread his legs wider.

“Come here.”

My feet moved before my brain could argue. I walked over and slowly dropped to my knees on the floor right in front of him. Cruz shifted forward so he was sitting straight up with his legs on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. He leaned back against the cushions and looked down at me with dark, calm eyes.

“He does not have to find out about this, trust me” he repeated softly.

I looked up at him, then back down at his cock, then up at him again. In the morning light it looked even bigger. It had to be over eight inches, thick and heavy with a slight upward curve. The shaft was covered in raised veins that stood out under the smooth skin. The cut head was flushed dark and shiny, a steady stream of clear precum dripping down the length in slow thick trails. Below it hung a pair of large, low balls covered in short dark hair, full and heavy like they had been saving up all night.

Cruz stroked himself once, slowly, then reached out and gently rested his hand on the back of my head.

“Yeah bro, don't worry about it.”

My lips parted and wrapped around the head. The taste exploded across my tongue immediately, salty and musky and much stronger than last night. Morning cock had a deeper, richer flavor that made my head spin.

“Easy… just the head at first,” he murmured, voice low and approving.

I started sucking carefully, just the head at first like he had told me. I followed his instruction, swirling my tongue around the leaking tip and sucking gently. After a minute I grew braver and took more of him, sliding my lips further down the thick shaft. He groaned quietly.

“Yeah, just like that.”

I pushed deeper until I felt the head bump the back of my throat. My eyes watered but I kept going, relaxing my throat until my nose pressed against his pubes and his entire cock disappeared into my mouth. Cruz’s hips bucked up once in surprise.

“Shit, you have clearly done this before.”

The praise made something warm bloom in my stomach. I started sucking him for real then, slow and wet and hungry. Saliva ran down his shaft and dripped onto his balls. Every time I took him deep I gagged softly and the sound seemed to turn him on more. Cruz kept one hand on the back of my head, not forcing me but guiding my rhythm with gentle pressure.

“Good boy… deeper… fuck, you are a natural.”

The taste kept flooding my mouth, that same thick salty flavor from last night but fresher, stronger in the morning. His musk was heavier too, filling my nose every time I buried my face in his lap. I sucked him with long, sloppy strokes, hollowing my cheeks and working my tongue along the underside of his shaft. Cruz’s low groans grew deeper and his abs started to tighten.

“Yeah boy, I’m close.”

He suddenly pulled my face off his cock with a wet pop. Strings of saliva connected my lips to the shiny head. I was breathing hard, lips swollen and dripping, my own cock throbbing painfully in my ruined underwear.

Cruz leaned forward, cupped my jaw with one hand and looked straight into my eyes.

“You swallow?”

His voice was soft.

I nodded quickly, unable to speak.

He guided my mouth back onto his cock, this time with a little more purpose. His hips started to move, fucking my face in slow, deep thrusts. His abs contracted visibly with every push. His breathing grew rough. He closed his eyes, head tilting back against the couch.

After a few more strokes his whole body tensed. I felt his cock swell even thicker against my tongue. The first powerful spurt of his cum hit the back of my throat, thick and hot. Then another, and another, heavy ropes of morning cum flooding my mouth in strong pulses. It was thicker than last night, almost creamy, and there was so much of it I had to swallow fast to keep up. Cruz held my head gently but firmly through every pulse, groaning deep in his chest as he emptied himself down my throat.

“Fucking shit, bro.”

When he finally finished he stayed in my mouth for a few seconds longer, breathing hard. Slowly he pulled out, his cock wet and glistening with my saliva. He leaned back against the couch, looking completely satisfied, and ran his thumb gently across my glossy cum streaked lips.

“Damn. That is one way to spend a Saturday morning.”

I stayed on my knees for a moment, dazed, throat warm and full, lips tingling. A small, shy smile tugged at the corner of my mouth even though my face was burning. I finally pushed myself up on shaky legs, my own untouched cock still straining and leaking in my underwear.

Without saying anything else I turned and walked back toward my room, the taste of Cruz’s thick morning load still heavy on my tongue.